


Funny How The Stars Crossed Right

by LiveLaughLoveLarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Horseback Riding, Horses, M/M, Photographer Louis, Photography, Strangers to Lovers, University Student Harry, University Student Louis, Well Harry's a vet student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 12:12:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12432591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLaughLoveLarry/pseuds/LiveLaughLoveLarry
Summary: Liam and Louis round the corner to see a horse trotting around the ring. She (or maybe he) is a beautiful animal, with a dark black coat and white socks. A tall man in riding clothes sits atop the horse, speaking softly. He’s completely focused on the horse, and doesn’t notice their entrance at all. Dark brown curls spill out from beneath his helmet, and his expression is one of total joy.“Who’s that?” Louis asks, finding himself oddly breathless.“That’s Chester,” Liam says. “He’s an angel.”Louis is about to comment that he looks like an angel, but then pauses. “The human or the horse?”~*~*~Louis is a photography student, assigned to do a project at Greenfield Stables. Harry is a veterinary student, working part-time at Greenfield to gain experience and make a little money. They both have something to teach the other.





	Funny How The Stars Crossed Right

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the beautiful art of [tamikare](http://tamikare.tumblr.com/). I'm a big horse person, so I was very excited by her prompt, and I'm very happy with how it turned out. Most of my knowledge of horse-related things comes from obsessively reading Saddle Club books when I was younger, so please excuse any mistakes XD 
> 
> Huge thanks to the organizers of the [1D Reverse Bang](https://1dreversebang.tumblr.com/) for organizing this, and to all the artists and writers for all their hard work!
> 
> Title from "Why" by Sabrina Carpenter. _We work so well, and we don't even know why..._

Dew coats each blade of grass and soaks into Louis’ shoes as he treks up the hill to the stables. He squints in the early-morning sunlight, trying and failing to suppress a yawn. He’s not used to being up this early, having specifically arranged it so that none of his courses this year start before ten. Not to mention that it’s _Monday._ He’d picked up a large coffee from Starbucks on the way, but he still feels a little groggy around the edges.

He pauses at the top of the hill to catch his breath, and looks around. It’s beautiful in the early morning light, he has to admit – the sun through the mist gives everything a slightly ethereal quality, edging the trees in emerald and painting the edges of the buildings golden. He automatically starts thinking about how he might capture the image, and he reaches for his camera before remembering that he’d left it at home.

On purpose – he hadn’t forgotten it. But he knew that if he had it, he’d want to use it. And any shots he took today most likely wouldn’t be any good; he wouldn’t know what he was looking for yet. Today is for learning, for scoping things out, for finding his feet. Still, he misses its comfortable weight around his neck. His mother sometimes teases him that he’s going to forget how to see the world not through a lens, but he just smiles. He can still see it. He just wants to be able to show others what he sees.

“Can I help you?”

Louis turns to see a tall boy standing in the open door of the stables. He looks about Louis’ age, though that could be off by five years in either direction. He’s always been a terrible judge of age. The boy is muscular, with messy, light brown hair that he pushes out of his eyes. There are a few pieces of straw stuck to his shirt.

Louis smiles, holding out a hand to shake. The boy takes it, his grip firm. “I’m Louis,” Louis says. “I’m in Professor Winston’s Animal Photography class. I was told to ask for a Liam?”

“That’s me!” the boy says, his smile lighting up his face. “I’m the stable manager here at Greenfield. Steve asked me to show you around, get you acquainted with the place. Any particular interests, or just the normal tour?”

Louis chuckles. “I think I’d better stick to the normal tour for now,” he says. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about the horse business. You’ll have plenty to teach me.”

“That’s fine!” Liam chirps. He steps back through the open door, waving for Louis to follow. “I might talk your ear off, though. Fair warning.”

“If I can get an A on this assignment, I’ll gladly give you both ears,” Louis says, before realizing just how odd that sentence sounded. He feels a beat of uncertainty, then Liam bursts into delighted laughter.

“I like you,” he says. “I think we’re going to get along. Much better than the previous fellow.”

“I hope so,” Louis says. “Which previous fellow?”

“The student last term,” Liam says. “We’ve been a partner with Ben’s class for… gosh, it must be nearly six years now. I’ve been the main contact for about three. Some of the students are interested in the horses, some are just here for a grade. Some are nice, some are – well, not. James was one of the not-nice ones.”

“I’ll try to be nice,” Louis says. “And – I mean, I am here for a grade, but I’m interested too. I just don’t know much.”

“That’s fine,” Liam says. “I don’t expect everyone to care about horses as much as I do – I don’t understand it, but I also don’t understand why some people think that pineapple on pizza is acceptable.”

“Hey!” Louis says, mostly kidding.

Liam laughs. “Nevermind, we can’t be friends,” he says, then shakes his head. “Anyway, your love for horses or lack thereof isn’t really my business. But I do think that understanding them can help you get better shots. Knowing how they move, what they’re capable of. Recognizing the signals from their riders. Getting them comfortable with you. That kind of thing.”

Louis nods. “Humans are like that too,” he says, then pauses. “Not that I’m trying to say humans are basically horses-”

Liam laughs again. “The way I interact with them, sometimes I’m not sure I know the difference,” he says. “Come on. I’ll start the introductions. You’ll love Marigold.”

Marigold is a horse. Louis shouldn’t be surprised by this, but he’d somehow managed to assume that “introductions” meant “to humans.” She’s a lovely bay mare, according to Liam, with some Arabian blood in her. Louis thinks she looks like a brown horse. She’s sweet and friendly, though, snuffling at Liam’s hands until he laughs and tells her that he doesn’t have any treats today. She keeps snuffling, and a minute later he pulls a piece of carrot from his pocket and offers it to Louis.

“D’you want to?” he asks. “It’s completely safe, I promise, but you don’t have to.”

Louis glances at Marigold, sizing up her teeth (which are as big as his fingers), but he swallows and takes the carrot.

“Hold your hand out flat,” Liam instructs, and Louis obeys. Marigold looks at him for a moment, then delicately lowers her head to pick the carrot out of his hand. Her whiskers tickle his fingers, and he laughs, forgetting his nervousness. He runs a hand along her nose, the hairs sleek and slightly prickly, and glances over to see Liam smiling.

“Sorry,” he says, when he catches Louis’ curious look. “I just love getting to introduce people to this world, to what I love most. Seeing them see what I see.”

Louis nods. “I know what you mean,” he says. “I feel the same way about photography.”

Liam laughs. “Then you’ll have to show me your work sometime,” he says. “Fair trade?”

Louis laughs too. “You’re already doing me a favor,” he points out. “But if you’re up for it, I’d certainly love to.”

“It’s a plan,” Liam says. He gives Marigold one last pat, then steps away, moving down the row of stalls. “Now, Bullseye can be a bit skittish, but he’s a total softie once he gets to know you.”

Over the course of the next hour, Louis meets more than a dozen more horses, his head nearly spinning with the names and descriptions and stories. There’s Cowboy, who likes to chase butterflies, and Jackie, who is owned by a little girl who drops by every day to visit, and then Cleo, who is heavily pregnant, and Goldie, who started out as a racehorse but was sold to the stable after an injury. And those are just some of the ones inside – Louis feels slightly dizzy when Liam mentions that there are more out in the pasture. He doesn’t know how he keeps them all straight.

And it’s not just names. Liam keeps using words that Louis has never even heard of – dressage, cavaletti, posting – and Louis is beginning to feel just a touch out of his element. He half wishes he’d chosen one of the other, simpler options – the animal shelter, maybe, or the wildlife sanctuary, or even the aquarium. Professor Winston had warned him that Greenfield was one of the more challenging options.

“It’s very rewarding,” he’d said. “And some of my favorite photos for this assignment have come from there. But there’s a lot to learn.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work,” Louis had told him. And he wasn’t, either. He liked working hard, liked challenging himself and proving himself, liked learning. But he’s beginning to realize just how much he doesn’t know, and he isn’t sure he’ll be able to catch up by the time the assignment is due at the end of the month.

They bump into a pair of grooms as they walk around the stable, a blond, cheerful boy named Niall and a girl with a long, brown ponytail who introduces herself as Maren. Both are students at the same university as Louis, working part time to pay for their schooling.

Next, Liam leads Louis outside. They meet a few more horses grazing in the pasture (or rather, Liam points them out to Louis and tells him about them while they stand under a tree in the middle of the field), and then Liam shows him the two riding rings. As they approach the second one, Louis hears a soft, rhythmic thumping. Liam smiles, nodding. “I thought they might be in here.”

Before Louis can ask what he means, they round the corner to see a horse trotting around the ring. She (or maybe he) is a beautiful animal, with a dark black coat and white socks. A tall man in riding clothes sits atop the horse, speaking softly. He’s completely focused on the horse, and doesn’t notice their entrance at all. Dark brown curls spill out from beneath his helmet, and his expression is one of total joy.

“Who’s that?” Louis asks, finding himself oddly breathless.

“That’s Chester,” Liam says. “He’s an angel.”

Louis is about to comment that he looks like an angel, but then pauses. “The human or the horse?”

Liam laughs. “The horse,” he says. “Sorry, bit of a one-track mind. Harry’s a veterinary student from the university. He’s been helping out here for nearly two years now. Hey, Harry!”

Harry looks up from the horse and smiles, raising one hand in a quick wave. “Be right with you!” he calls as he trots past. He does two more circuits of the ring, then slows Chester to a walk and guides him over to where Louis and Liam stand.

“How is he?” Liam asks as Harry dismounts. It’s a single, smooth motion, and he gives Chester an affectionate scratch before turning to face Liam and Louis.

"He's mending quite nicely," he says with a pleased smile. "Should be back to normal in a day or two. He strained a ligament," he explains to Louis. "I've been monitoring his condition, and working him back up to regular riding. The kids miss him."

"Can't have that," Louis says, completely baffled. "Also, what?"

Harry laughs. "Chester is very gentle and unflappable," he explains. "The newer or younger riders often start out with him. They've been asking after him while he's been out of commission."

"Ah," Louis says, though he only half understands.

"Louis is our new student from Ben this semester," Liam tells Harry. "I like him better than James already."

"Not a high bar," Harry says making a face. "Welcome to Greenfield, Louis. I hope you like it here as much as I do."

"I think I'm beginning to," Louis says. "I've got a lot to learn, though."

"Just what we like to hear," Harry says, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "As long as you're willing to learn, everyone here will be happy to teach."

Louis smiles gratefully. "Liam tells me you're a veterinary student," he says. "Are you interested in horses in particular, or more of a general practice?"

Harry shrugs. "I love horses," he says. "Getting to work with them every day would be an absolute dream. But I love other animals too, and practically speaking a general vet is probably a better choice." He smiles again. "But then, I've never been accused of being overly practical."

Louis laughs. "You and me both," he says. "At least no one's probably ever asked you what you're going to do with your degree – or if you're ever going to get a _real_ job."

“There is that,” Harry says, laughing too. He glances at his watch. "Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, but I should probably get Chester groomed. I have class in an hour."

"Me too," Louis says. "Do you need a ride?" He speaks before he thinks, and immediately wonders why he offered. "I mean, you probably have your own car, but if we're heading in the same direction I thought I'd ask-"

"A ride would be great, actually," Harry says. "I bike up most days, which is fine, but driving is much faster. Though I don't know if you'll have space for my bike..."

"Probably not," Louis says. "My car’s pretty small. Sorry."

“I can drop it off later,” Liam offers. “I have an errand in the area.”

“Oh!” Louis is still trying to make sense of his own offer. “That’s – great, then.”

Harry frowns. “Unless you’re having second thoughts?” he says. “I mean, we did just meet, and I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything, but-”

Louis laughs. “No, nothing like that,” he says. “It’s fine. I’m just – I don’t know. It’s probably just the fact that I had to get up before eight today.” He makes a comical grimace. “I hate mornings.”

“But they’re so beautiful!” Harry says, feigning horror as barely disguised mischief sparkles in his eyes. “I think you’re not appreciating them properly.”

Louis laughs. “I appreciate them plenty,” he says. “From my bed!”

“Can’t argue with that,” Harry says, nodding. Chester nudges him gently with his nose, and Harry laughs, giving him a pat. “All right, Ches, I get it. You want breakfast.” He smiles at Louis with a ‘what-can-you-do?’ shrug. “I’ll meet you out front in twenty minutes?”

“You’ve got it,” Louis says.

~*~

Louis’ next visit is two days later. He still feels groggy, but he has his camera this time, and that gives him a boost of energy.

His drive with Harry had passed in almost total silence – Louis, usually never at a loss for words, couldn’t think of a single interesting thing to say. At last, as Harry directs him to the correct building, he thinks to ask what class he’s going to.

“Animal Physiology,” Harry says, which effectively ends that conversation, since Louis knows fuck all about… whatever that is.

“Is it hard?” he asks, trying anyway.

Harry laughs. “Not too bad,” he says. “I find it interesting the way different animals can be so different and yet so similar. It’s challenging, sure, but being a vet has been my dream since I was five, so I don’t mind the work.”

There’s not much more to say to that, and they’re almost to the building anyways, so Louis just lets him out with a wave and a “See you later!”

As he approaches the barn, he fiddles absently with the buttons of his camera. This time, he promises himself, he’ll be a much better conversationalist.

Liam greets him at the door again, waving him inside. “One of our boarders is practicing for a show jumping competition,” he says as he leads Louis down the row of stalls. “She’s agreed to let you photograph her, if you’d like.”

“That sounds great,” Louis says, slightly startled. “Is that – I mean, are you – she – sure?”

Liam laughs. “You’re forgetting how many times we’ve done this,” he says. “She’ll just be going about her practice as usual, only you’ll be taking pictures. You won’t get to direct her or anything, but honestly I think anything horses do is pretty photogenic. Just be sure to not use flash, so you don’t spook the horse.”

“Gotcha,” Louis says, immediately flipping through the settings to turn it off.

“I’ll be with you for the first little while,” Liam continues, “so I can explain some of what she’s doing, point out the signals she gives her horse, that kind of thing. After that, I’ll be in the tack room if you need me. Bebe has the ring for two hours, but I don’t know when you have class, so keep an eye on the time.”

“Um.” Louis is just a little bit overwhelmed around the edges. “Okay.”

Liam seems to sense his apprehension, because he stops walking for a moment and lays a hand on Louis’ arm. “I know it can seem like a lot at once,” he says. “We don’t expect you to know everything we do; we don’t expect you to pick it up right away. That’s why this assignment is a month long, to give you time to learn.”

Louis nods. “I guess I just feel like there’s so much I don’t know,” he says. “It makes me feel… well, not stupid, exactly, but – I don’t know. Like I should know more.”

Liam shakes his head. “You’re fine,” he says. “We all just love what we do so much, and we love sharing that love and that knowledge. And sometimes we forget that you don’t know things, because we’ve known them for ages, but I’m sure the same thing would happen if you tried explaining camera stuff to us. And you wouldn’t think I was stupid if I didn’t know – I dunno, how different camera lenses work, or…” He trails off, chuckling. “I don’t even know what I don’t know, which I suppose proves my point.”

Louis nods slowly. “I guess terms like shutter speed and exposure time mean about as much to you as calavetti means to me.”

“Cavaletti.”

“Gesundheit.”

Liam laughs. “If you’re feeling confident enough to make jokes again, I think you’re fine,” he says. “Come on. Bebe’s already been at it for half an hour.”

“Jesus,” Louis says as they start walking again. “How early do you people get up? It’s not natural, I tell you.”

“Big baby,” Liam says, giving him a friendly shove. “When I started here, I got up at six in the morning five days a week.”

Louis clutches dramatically at his chest. “I would literally die,” he says. “At least you got the other two days off?”

“Nope,” Liam says, popping the P. “Those days I got to sleep in until seven thirty, though.”

“You’re not human,” Louis decides. “That’s the only explanation. You’re – I dunno, a robot, or an alien.”

Liam laughs. “Or I go to bed at what you’d probably consider an absurdly early time,” he says. “To each their own.”

Louis is about to make another quip when they pass through the doors into the ring. The sight of a gray-speckled horse soaring over a tall fence leaves him completely speechless. A woman in a bright red polo shirt seems to hover over the horse’s long neck, settling back into the saddle as the horse touches down on the other side. They keep moving, long strides eating up the ground and then they’re flying again. It looks terrifying to Louis, terrifying and wonderful all at once.

Bebe turns her horse towards another fence, and this one is so high that Louis can’t believe they could possibly clear it. He holds his breath as she urges her mount forward, rising up in the saddle as the horse pushes off. It looks perfect to him, but judging by the way her mouth twists, she wanted better. She pulls gently at the reins, slowing her horse to a walk.

“Pogo still hesitating before that jump?” Liam calls.

Bebe looks up and smiles, turning her mount towards them. “Less so,” she says as she approaches. “He trusts me, but I think it makes him nervous. It’s bigger than anything else we’ve ever done. We make it over, but he always struggles to keep his pace on the landing.”

Liam nods. “Have you tried it with another rider?” he asks. “Or another horse? If you’re nervous, if you’re expecting him to have trouble, he might be picking up on that.”

Louis glances at Liam in surprise. It’s a bit of a bold suggestion, and he half expects Bebe to be annoyed, but she just nods. “Could be,” she says. “It’s worth a shot.” She turns her attention to Louis. “And you must be the new photography student – Louis, was it?”

“That’s right,” Louis says, his fingers running along the side of his camera. “Louis Tomlinson. Liam said I was free to photograph your session today?”

“Lovely to meet you, Louis,” she says, smiling. “I’m Bebe – though I’m sure he told you that. You’re welcome to take whatever photos you please, as long as you keep the flash off, don’t make any loud noises, and keep out of the way.” She pats Pogo’s neck gently. “It’s for everyone’s safety – mine, yours, and Pogo’s.”

“That makes sense,” Louis says, making a mental note to pack his longer-range lenses next time. What he has will be fine for today, but he’ll be better able to get a wider variety of shots from a distance with the other lenses.

“If you get back to work, I’ll explain what you’re doing to Louis,” Liam says.

Bebe laughs. “All right, taskmaster,” she teases. “You’re worse than my coach.”

“I used to _be_ your coach,” Liam replies, but he’s smiling too.

They watch from the edge of the ring as Bebe nudges Pogo back into motion, quickly coaxing him into the smooth run that Liam has told Louis is called a canter. Liam explains how Bebe prepares herself and her horse for each jump, how she signals him, and how she helps the horse by positioning her weight. He points out a few of the different kinds of jumps – oxers, verticals, combinations, the words blur together in Louis’ head. But as he watches Bebe soar over jump after jump, watches her turn Pogo on a dime, watches her push him faster and slower, his muscles bunching under her, Louis’ fingers itch to start shooting. He’s already calculating angles, assessing lighting, counting seconds. He’s ready.

At last, Liam claps him on the shoulder and announces that he’s off to the tack room. Louis barely hears him. He picks up his camera, and gets to work.

At first, he’s careful, considering his shots carefully before he takes them. He picks a fence and waits for Bebe to jump it, or he adjusts the focus as she canters down the length of the ring. Then, as his confidence grows, he begins to stretch his photographing muscles. He follows her motion, snapping almost nonstop as she takes a jump. He picks out the horse’s head, his legs, his haunches. He captures him cantering or galloping, taking off or landing or midleap, from the right and left and in front and behind.

When his memory card beeps at him that it’s full, he’s startled. It feels like he’s coming out of a trance – which isn’t entirely inaccurate. A quick glance at his watch shows him he’s been shooting for well over an hour – and that he has about twenty minutes to make the half hour drive to campus for his next class. He mutters an expletive, turning off his camera and putting on the lens cap.

“Headed out?” Bebe calls as he moves for the exit. He turns, shooting her a smile.

“Have to,” he says. “I have class. And my card’s full. But thank you so much – that was incredible to watch. You’re very talented.”

“I have a good teammate,” Bebe says, patting Pogo’s neck. “Send me some of the photos, will you?”

Louis laughs. “No problem,” he says. “I’ll see you around, I hope?”

“Count on it.”

He drops into the tack room quickly to say goodbye to Liam, then races to his car. It’s only as he pulls away that he realizes that he didn’t see Harry at all.

~*~

Harry doesn’t work every day, of course. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Harry has his own schedule. He has classes and friends and a life, and he’s only needed at Greenfield when a horse is injured or ill anyways. Which hopefully they aren’t. Not seeing Harry is probably a good sign, really.

Why is Louis so concerned with this?

“You like him,” Zayn tells Louis when he asks. Zayn and Louis have been best friends since they met in a first year art theory course – Zayn does painting and drawing to Louis’ photography. They moved in together sophomore year, and while it totally shouldn’t work (neither of them can cook, and they’re both absolute slobs), they haven’t starved to death or burned the place to the ground yet, so Louis considers it a success.

But right now, Zayn is not being helpful. “That’s silly,” Louis tells him. “Why would you say that?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “He’s tall, has curly hair, and likes animals,” he tells Louis, counting the qualities off on his fingers. “Knowing your tastes as I wish I didn’t-” (Louis grins, but doesn’t apologize. Or deny it) “-those are probably your top three qualities in a guy.”

“Well, that and dick size,” Louis says. “But it’s hard to determine that before you’ve made an investment already. But just because someone has those qualities doesn’t mean I like them. Brian had all those qualities.”

“Brian was a douche,” Zayn says. “This is an objective fact. Harry appears to be not a douche. Another attractive quality.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “What about George?” he says.

“It took you a month to spend any time with George outside of class,” Zayn says. “You certainly didn’t offer him a ride before you’d known him an hour.”

Louis isn’t sure why he’s denying this. Of course he likes Harry. That’s obvious to anyone with eyes, and Louis has excellent eyes, thanks. Comes with the whole photography student thing. He supposes the real question is – why? Not even why does he like him, but why is he turning into this bumbling, awkward, uncertain mess of a person around him? Usually he’s more – well, not that, in any case. He doesn’t like to brag or anything, but he rarely leaves a uni party alone if he doesn’t want to. He chats up strangers in coffee shops and charms baristas into giving him pastries or extra whipped cream. Why should Harry be different?

Zayn sighs at this new line of inquiry. “Louis, don’t take this the wrong way, but – have you ever been in a proper relationship?”

“Of course I have,” Louis says, confused. “You live with me, Zayn, I would think you’d keep track of these things.”

Zayn shakes his head. “I don’t just mean fuckbuddies,” he says. “I don’t mean someone whose body you worship in the bedroom, or someone you get hammered with and mess around with every week or so. I mean someone you really and truly care about.”

“I care about them,” Louis protests, but he knows what Zayn means. And it’s true. He’s never had the kind of relationship that usually gets talked about – never gone for hand-holding or gooey nicknames or cuddling. He didn’t want it, really; considered it overrated.

“When was the last time you had a crush?” Zayn asks next. “Not the last time you wanted to bring someone home, or the last time you thought someone was attractive, but – that fuzzy, butterflies in your stomach feeling, like you’re back in fifth grade.”

Fifth grade is exactly what Louis thinks of. He thinks of a blond boy in his class – Tony – who had eyes that lit up when he smiled and a voice that squeaked when he got excited. He liked the same comics that Louis did, and they could talk for hours about them. He remembers his palms getting sweaty when they hung out, remembers wanting to seem cool and knowledgeable. He remembers wondering what it would be like to hold Tony’s hand.

There had been others, occasionally – Mickey in seventh grade, and Owen in tenth, but it had been a while.

It was the same feeling, though. Exactly the same. The same wanting to be around them, wanting to please them, wanting to do things for them. The same nervousness at the possibility of messing up in front of them, which made him so much more likely to do so.

He hasn’t missed this feeling at all.

But at the same time, the thought of spending time with Harry – even just talking or hanging out – makes a smile spread involuntarily across his face. And the idea of… of more (whatever that might mean) – Louis feels his breath catch in his throat, feels his chest swell and his heart race.

This part, he thinks – this part could be nice.

As long as he doesn’t fuck everything up.

~*~

Harry is waiting with Liam when Louis arrives on Friday morning. Louis falters momentarily, his heart jumping into his mouth, then shakes his head and presses on.

“Good morning!” he calls out cheerily. “Who are you here for today?”

Harry takes a step back, confusion twisting across his face. “What?”

Great. Two sentences in and he already feels wrong footed. “I just meant – I mean, you’re like a vet, so I assumed – is one of the horses-”

“Oh!” Harry smiles. “No, everyone’s fine. I just like to drop by and visit.”

“Visit the humans or the animals?” Louis asks.

Harry laughs, and Louis feels like he’s back on even ground. “Can’t I do both?” he says.

“How about you?” Liam asks, his smile teasing. “Who are you here for?”

That is… an interesting question. There’s only one answer he’s willing to say aloud, though. “Whichever horse you set me loose on,” he says.

“Will several do?” Liam asks. “We’ve got a few out in the pasture.”

“Sounds good to me,” Louis says. “Lead on.”

There are five horses in the fenced-in area; three standing under a few trees in the middle, the other two grazing closer to the fence. These two lift their heads as the three humans approach.  One goes back to grazing after determining that they’re not a threat. The other whinnies, trotting over to them and shoving her head into Harry’s hands. He laughs, rubbing her nose. “Okay, Ladybug, scritches for you.”

Louis quickly snaps a few shots, smiling. Both their happiness clearly comes through in the images, and though they’re rushed, he has a feeling they’ll be very good.

“Do you want to give her a carrot?” Liam asks, and it takes Louis a moment to realize that he’s talking to him.

“Um, sure,” he says. Ladybug’s ears have perked up at the word ‘carrot,’ and she quickly abandons Harry’s ministrations to lean her head over the fence towards the treat Liam hands to Louis.

“Fickle, isn’t she?” Louis says, laughing.

Harry shakes his head, smiling. “And here I thought I was important,” he says.

“She only loves me for my carrots,” Louis says, holding out the treat. “She came to you without any bribery at all.” He smiles at the tickling sensation of Ladybug’s lips on his palm, instinctively rubbing her nose with his free hand. Ladybug nuzzles at his hands for a moment, then his pockets.

“No more treats,” Harry tells her. “Just scritches.”

She lets out a long breath, almost like a sigh, but doesn’t move away as Louis keeps stroking her head. Harry rests a hand on her neck, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“You guys good here?” Liam asks. “I should check on the grooms – we got two new guys in this week.”

“We’re good,” Harry says, glancing at Louis. He’s surprised, his mouth slightly dry, but he nods.

“Go do your job,” he tells Liam.

“Need me to do the introductions?” Harry asks as Liam mounts the hill back to the stables.

“Do I need to know their names to photograph them?” Louis asks. He’s mostly joking, and laughs when he’s rewarded with an appalled look from Harry.

“Disrespectful!” Harry exclaims, though he can’t suppress a smile. “Sounds like you don’t need me at all.”

He starts to stomp off, and Louis grabs his arm before he can stop himself. “Don’t,” he says. “Stay.” Harry turns back, an expression Louis can’t quite read painting his face. Louis searches for something normal to say – something that isn’t “I’ll listen to you introduce anyone just to hear your voice,” or “I need you completely.”

“What’s the white one called?” he asks at last. “She’s pretty.”

“He, actually,” Harry says. “And he’s gray, not white. Horses aren’t white unless they’re albino.”

Louis rolls his eyes, laughing. “All right, Mr. Horse Genius. What’s _his_ name, then?”

“That’s Cumulus,” Harry says. “He’s a fantastic dressage horse, belongs to one of the older students here.” He leans against the fence, Louis taking the spot next to him. “The chestnut mare next to him is Popsicle; she’s a bit ornery, needs a firm hand.”

Harry tells Louis the other two horses’ names, specialties, personalities. Louis finds himself almost captivated, drinking every word like water in the desert. He snaps a few shots of the horses, but they’re mostly just standing in the shade. The light’s not great, and there’s no real action to the images.

“Do you want to go in?” Harry asks after a few minutes pass like that.

Louis starts slightly. They’d been standing in silence, but for someone who always loved noise and motion and excitement, it had been oddly pleasant. He glances out at the horses. “Is it safe?”

Harry laughs. “Would I offer if it wasn’t?” he asks. He steps up onto the railing, swinging a leg over. “Come on,” he says, extending a hand. “I’ll protect you from the big, scary horsies.”

“Hey!” Louis says, only slightly offended. He takes Harry’s hand, feeling it warm and soft under his as he climbs over the fence. He feels his heart pounding as he looks around at the animals on the other side. ‘Now what?” he asks.

Harry strides towards the stand of trees, their pool of shade meager but apparently enough for the horses. Louis follows, only a few steps behind. He stops a few yards away as Harry greets Popsicle. Cumulus nudges at his pockets, and Harry laughs. Louis barely realizes that he’s snapping pictures, a soft smile on his face as he watches the screen.

“Greedy bastards, all of them,” Harry says, looking over at Louis with a grin that threatens to split his face in two. “Come give them a scratch.”

“Can’t keep up with their demands for attention?” Louis teases, complying easily. He strokes the nose of the one Harry has told him is a bay gelding named Pockets. “Yes, you know you’re a pretty boy.”

“Well, yes,” Harry says, running his fingers through Popsicle’s mane. “I mean, I’m not vain by nature, but facts are facts.”

Louis’ mouth drops open, scrabbling to find words, until Harry bursts out laughing.

“I was _teasing_ ,” he says between laughs. “But oh God, your _face_.”

Louis feels himself blushing. “Shut up,” he says, turning his full attention to Pockets. “You just caught me off guard. _Normal_ people don’t say things like that.”

“Normal is boring,” Harry says with a shrug. “And normal people are surrounded by fewer horses, so who’s really winning here?”

It’s hard to argue with that. And Louis doesn’t really try.

~*~

A hundred or so pictures later (plus several carrots, dozens of scratches, and enough smiles that Louis’ cheeks are sore), Louis offers Harry another ride to campus.

“If you have class, I mean,” he says. “Or, like, if you don’t have anything to do here – you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, chuckling. “A ride would be great; I should just check with Liam that he doesn’t need anything from me.”

Louis mentally berates himself as Harry walks inside. _Why_ does he have to be such a bumbling fool every time he opens his mouth in front of Harry? Why can’t he just talk to him like a normal human being, instead of looking like an awkward idiot?

Harry returns a few minutes later, his face slightly flushed, with the news that Liam doesn’t need him to stick around.

Louis manages to keep up what he thinks is a fairly normal conversation as they drive, this time, though his heart feels like someone is squeezing it with every beat. He can barely focus in class, and after struggling through the first forty minutes, he gives up and vows to borrow notes from someone else. Instead of continuing the losing battle to pay attention to the professor’s droning voice, he pulls the memory card from his camera and starts looking through the images on his computer.

He’s quite pleased with some of them already, marking the ones that he thinks might make it into his final portfolio. There is one small problem, however.

At least half of the photos are of Harry.

Oh, the horses are in them too – at least, most of them – but they aren’t the focus the way they should be. And there are numerous shots that are just Harry – smiling, laughing, his eyes shining like the sun as he looks at the horses. It’s beautiful, but he doesn’t think Professor Winston accept them.

Zayn seems to have the same thoughts. “You do realize that this is a project for _Animal_ Photography?” Zayn says when he catches Louis going through the photos that night. “I don’t think animal instincts count.”

Louis shoves Zayn, though there’s no real force behind it. “Don’t be crude,” he says absently.

“I’m just saying,” Zayn says, sitting down beside him, completely unperturbed. “He is gorgeous, though. Damn.”

“Paws off,” Louis says, shutting his laptop with a laugh. “I saw him first. Find your own hot guy to ogle.”

“Fine,” Zayn says, not at all offended. “Be that way.”

“I think I will.”

Monday morning, Louis emerges from his room just after eight, blinking and yawning. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees Zayn perched on the arm of the sofa.

Zayn smiles slightly. “Good morning.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever uttered those words before in your life,” Louis says, pressing a hand to his chest as he tries to catch his breath. “What are you doing up?”

“Maybe I just felt like being productive.”

“Bullshit.” Louis doesn’t even pause to consider the idea. “You hate mornings even more than I do. There is no way you would be up at butt o’clock in the morning without a damned good reason.”

Zayn chuckles. “Fair enough,” he says. “Actually, I… wanted to tag along with you this morning.”

Louis frowns. “Okay,” he says slowly. “You’re welcome to come, as far as I’m concerned. But… why?”

“Maybe I just like horses.”

 “We’ve already done the whole bit where I call your bullshit because I know you better than that,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “Why do you want to come along?”

A slow smile crosses Zayn’s face. “I’m curious,” he says. “I want to meet the boy who managed to get beneath your skin. You’re usually so unflappable; I want to see what it takes to… flap you, I guess.”

“I don’t think that’s how that word works,” Louis says, frowning. He’s seriously reconsidering his willingness to bring Zayn along.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Zayn says. “I’m not going to embarrass you, or even tell him about that time at New Year’s last year.”

Louis is instantly bright red. “You promised to never mention that.”

“I just want to meet him,” Zayn continues. “I’ll behave. Maybe even put in a good word.”

“Don’t,” Louis says tightly. “I don’t want to… screw things up.”

“Are you sure?” Zayn asks, a wicked glint in his eye. “Because I thought screwing things was the general idea-”

“ _Stop_.” The edge of his keys is digging into his palm, and he forces himself to relax his grip. “Zayn, this isn’t-”

“I know,” Zayn says. “Relax, Lou, I’m just teasing. I’ll be good, I promise. I’m just-” He pauses. “Well, I’ve never seen you like this. You can’t blame me for being curious. And maybe a little protective.”

Louis looks up in surprise, and Zayn grins.

“You’re my best friend,” he says. “It’s only natural.”

“You were never like this with any of the others,” Louis says.

“You never cared about any of the others this way,” Zayn points out. “It wasn’t as… risky, I guess.”

Louis frowns, picking at his lip with one finger. “You think this is risky?”

Zayn sighs. “Anything that matters is a risk,” he says. “It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. I just want to know what you’re getting into.”

“I’m a big boy.”

“I know.” Zayn cracks a crooked smile. “You change your own Pull-Ups and everything.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Louis says, giving him a gentle shove. Zayn falls backwards onto the sofa, laughing, and Louis smiles in spite of himself. “You can come if you want, but if you start meddling I will tell the next person you bring home about last Halloween. You’re not the only one who knows embarrassing stories.”

“Duly noted,” Zayn says, nodding. “Though the thing about being friends for this long is we both have so much blackmail material saved up, it’s like mutually assured destruction.”

“Except instead of nuclear apocalypse it’s just eternal mortification,” Louis agrees. “Not sure which one is preferable.”

“Let’s just agree not to push the button,” Zayn says with a laugh.

Louis nods. “Excellent plan.”

~*~

Liam is surprised. Which… makes sense, honestly, and Louis probably should have given him a heads up, because he didn’t sign up for this, and he’s already doing Louis a favor by being so helpful about everything, and Louis is about to say that Zayn doesn’t have to stay when Liam smiles and says, “Welcome to Greenfield.”

Louis pauses mid-apology. “Really?”

“Why not?” Liam says. “The more the merrier.”

“Are you sure?” Louis says. “Because I really am sorry I didn’t let you know – though to be fair, he only told me this morning, but-”

“It’s fine, Louis,” Liam says, laughing. “But are you ever going to introduce us? I can’t keep calling your friend ‘Nice Hair’ in my head.”

“Oh,” Louis says, his face flushing. “Right. Sorry. Liam, this is Zayn, my roommate and best friend. Zayn, Liam. He’s the boss around here.”

“You give me too much credit,” Liam says, laughing. “I’m in charge of a lot of the day-to-day operation of the stables, but Steve’s the real boss.”

“I’ve never met Steve,” Louis says with a shrug. “So as far as I’m concerned, you’re it.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Zayn says, holding out a hand. “Please ignore him, he’s an idiot.”

Liam laughs again, shaking the proffered hand. “I like him.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, smiling. “Me too.”

“What have you got in store for us today?” Louis asks, hoping to redirect the attention from his awkwardness. It works, Liam’s face lighting up with a bright smile.

“One of our younger students is having a private dressage lesson,” he says. “She and her parents have agreed to let you shoot the lesson.”

Louis nods, trying to remember what dressage is. Liam glances at him, and laughs. “Dressage is like horse dancing,” he says. “Specialized movements, and ideally the signals from the rider are nearly invisible.”

“Right,” Louis says. “I knew that.”

“He didn’t know that,” Zayn informs Liam.

So much for redirecting the attention.

Liam leads them to one of the riding rings, and Louis finds himself smiling as he breathes in the smell of the stables – straw and sweat and sawdust – it somehow feels comforting, even with the faint scent of manure lacing through it. As they approach the ring, he hears the soft thump of hooves, and a muffled voice calling out instructions.

“How does he look?” Liam calls as they enter. A familiar tall figure peels himself off the wall, walking over to them with a smile.

“Much better,” Harry says. “You wouldn’t even know he’d been injured. Hiya, Lou. And who’s this?”

Louis tries not to choke on his own tongue. “Um. Harry, this is Zayn. He’s my best friend and roommate, and for some reason decided to tag along this morning.”

“Maybe he likes horses,” Harry says, his eyes twinkling. “Some people are funny like that, you know.”

“Yeah, but Zayn shares my disdain for mornings,” Louis says. “I can’t remember the last time I saw him awake before nine.”

Harry shakes his head, an amused smile playing about his lips. “Monsters, both of you,” he says. “There’s nothing quite like watching the sun rise.”

“Watching the sun _set_ ,” Louis replies. “Same colors, but at a time when reasonable humans are actually away. And besides, my apartment faces west, so I couldn’t see the sun rise anyway.”

“You don’t watch the sunrise from inside,” Harry says, laughing. “It’s not just the colors; it’s the stillness of the city slowly blooming into life. It’s hearing the first birdsong, watching lights coming on in all the buildings as people start getting up. It’s beautiful.”

It does sound beautiful, Louis has to admit. And it’s not like he would know, since he’s never up. He shrugs. “Maybe you’re right,” he says. “But there’s a kind of beauty to the night as well – the silence, the anonymity. It makes you feel – a part of something bigger than yourself.”

Harry’s smile is soft. “We’ll have to show each other, sometime,” he says.

There’s a cough from beside them, and Louis jumps, having completely forgotten they aren’t alone. Judging by the way Harry starts, he’d forgotten too. Zayn’s expression is knowing, and even Liam is giving them a curious look. Louis fights to keep a blush from his cheeks as he turns to face the ring, lifting his camera. “So what am I looking at?” he asks.

Liam gives him one more searching look, then begins explaining.

~*~

“He definitely likes you,” Zayn says as soon as Louis has dropped Harry off in front of his class.

Louis jerks in surprise, nearly swerving into oncoming traffic. “Don’t _do_ that,” he says.

“Sorry,” Zayn says, sounding not at all sorry.

“You would have been if I’d hit someone,” Louis says. “Honestly, Zayn-”

“I am being honest,” Zayn says. “He one hundred percent likes you.”

“What are you even talking about?” Louis says. “For the last time-”

“I’m talking about the way he looks at you,” Zayn says. “The way he smiles, even when you’re being an ass.”

“I’m hilarious,” Louis says, deadpan.

“No one is that hilarious,” Zayn says. “And why was he even there?

“He _works_ there.”

“Not all the time,” Zayn retorts. “He’s a vet student; he works there as a _vet_.”

Louis pauses for a moment, considering. “Chester was injured recently,” he says. “The horse we were watching today. He was probably just checking on him.” And that is probably the case, but he finds himself wondering about the other times. He can’t have been working every time Louis has seen him; horses don’t get sick or injured that often – do they?

But Harry has said he likes to stop by and visit. That’s probably all it is. He likes the horses, not Louis.

“He likes the horses, not me,” Louis repeats to Zayn.

Zayn looks at him for a moment, then shakes his head. “The only reason I’m not continuing to argue just now is because if I do we’ll both be late for class,” he says. “But mark my words, sooner or later you’ll see.”

Louis supposes it will have to be later.

~*~

Harry isn’t there again on Wednesday. Louis wonders if he has a class, wonders what class it is, wonders how hard he would have to slap himself to stop thinking about this.

This time, however, Liam isn’t there either. Instead, Louis is greeted by a blond boy who he remembers as one of the grooms he met the first day. He can’t quite remember his name, something starting with N?

“It’s not Nick,” he says slowly. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember-”

“Niall,” Niall says with a laugh. “And as long as you don’t call me Neil we’re fine.”

“Do you get that a lot?” Louis asks.

“Constantly,” Niall says, rolling his eyes. “Every year there’s at least one prof. I’ve even had a couple people who refused to call me Niall, no matter how many times I corrected them. Apparently they couldn’t believe that I knew how my name was pronounced better than they did.”

“Dumbfucks,” Louis says scornfully. “I sometimes have people pronounce my name Lewis rather than Lou-ee, but most people take correction well enough.”

“Then you hang out with people who have multiple brain cells,” Niall says. “Also, I like you. Let’s go.”

He turns, heading into the barn, and Louis almost trips as he hurries to catch up. “Where are we going?” he asks.

“To battle,” Niall says, raising an arm aloft for a moment before he drops it. “Well, we’re battling against grime anyway.”

“Meaning what?” This sounds suspiciously like work.

“I’m a groom,” Niall says. “I groom the horses. Tack ‘em up, untack ‘em, clean the stalls. And today you’re with me.”

“Liam wants me grooming the horses?” Louis is incredulous.

Niall laughs, a friendly, cheerful sound. “Nah,” he says. “Though you’re welcome to give it a shot if you want to. But you’re here to capture the horsey experience, right? This is part of it. This is stuff that anyone who rides more than a few times learns to do.”

Louis shrugs. “I’ll follow your lead,” he says.

It’s not glamorous work. It’s hard and it’s sweaty and although Niall claims he barely notices the smell of manure anymore, Louis definitely still does. But photos of clouds of hair and dust falling loose under Niall’s brush, of the comb running through the horse’s mane and tail, of Niall’s surprisingly deft fingers pulling the strands into neat braids – Louis is pretty sure several of these will join the collection of contenders for his final submission.

After mucking out the stall of a grumpy gelding named Trip, Niall leads the horse back into the box and then tugs Louis to the door. “Get your camera ready,” he says, and Louis obeys, confused.

Trip circles the stall for a minute, nosing at the clean straw. He blows out a loud breath, then plunges his face into the water bucket for a drink. Louis snaps a few shots as he lifts his head again, water dripping from his nose and whiskers, but Niall is still bouncing beside him. “What am I looking for?” Louis asks, but Niall just shakes his head.

And then he sees it. Trip circles the stall one more time, then stops right in the middle. His tail goes up, and he drops a large pile of manure onto the freshly scattered straw.

Niall bursts into laughter at the look on Louis’ face. “You probably won’t be using that in your assignment,” he says. “But you don’t really know horses til you’ve seen them take a shit.” He opens the door, clipping a lead rope to Trip's halter and guiding him back out of the box. “Hold him a sec?” he says, handing the rope to Louis. “Trip is the only horse I’ve ever known to do this. Without fail, every time we bring him back to a clean box – he always poops.”

“It’s like babies,” Louis says, absently scratching Trip's nose. “Some of them will purposefully wait until you’ve put a clean diaper on them to take a pee. And then you have to change them all over again.”

“That’s it,” Niall says, nodding. “Our Trip is secretly a human baby. Aren’t you, big boy?” He’s already scooped the new pile of poop into the mostly full wheelbarrow, and tossed down a handful of new straw. With a gentle chuck under Trip's chin, he takes the rope from Louis and leads Trip back into the box. Once he’s latched the door behind him, he lifts the wheelbarrow, biceps standing out under his shirtsleeves.

“Please tell me you got the photos,” he says as he leads the way to the manure pile – Louis’ least favorite place in the entire complex.

“I did,” Louis says. “I don’t know why you wanted them, but I did.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of uses for them,” Niall says. “Maybe not academic ones, but plenty of uses nonetheless.”

“I’ll be sure to send you copies, then,” Louis says drily.

Niall laughs. “Oh, come off it,” he says. “It was funny, you know it was.”

“If you’re four, maybe,” Louis says, but he’s smiling – and not even trying to pretend otherwise.

Niall claps his hands loudly. “I knew you knew how to have fun,” he says. “Come on, if we hurry, we can print these out and put them all over Liam’s desk before he gets back!”

~*~

It is fun, Louis has to admit. Not that he’s really trying that hard to deny it. They print out dozens of copies and tape them to every surface. It’s a nice desk – smooth, dark wood, organized in a way Louis has never been able to replicate in his own life. It almost seems a shame to cover it in pictures of a horse pooping.

Almost.

Okay, not really.

Smack in the middle of the desk, they leave a single large printout of a picture of the two of them. Louis had claimed that it was practically criminal to use a fancy camera to take a selfie, to which Niall retorted that it was practically criminal that he _hadn’t_ used his camera to take a selfie.

They took the selfie.

Liam isn’t thrilled, of course, but he seems used to Niall’s kind of humor, and he takes it in stride. Louis wonders how long he’ll be finding the pictures slipped into various files in the desk drawers.

After class, he sits outside to eat his lunch, enjoying the feeling of the sunshine through the trees. He eats his sandwich with one hand, looking through the photos he’s taken on his laptop with the other. He types out a few notes for editing as he chews, a feeling of comfortable satisfaction settling in his bones.

He looks up when a shadow falls over his screen, a surprised smile spreading across his face as he recognizes the person standing over him.

“Harry!” he says. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Harry says, smiling back. “Is this a private grassy knoll, or can anyone join you?”

“Not just anyone,” Louis teases. “But I’ll make an exception for you.”

Harry laughs, flopping down next to Louis. “Whatcha doing?”

“Going through some of the photos,” Louis says, flicking through a few more images. “I’m really happy with them.”

“Can I see?”

“Can – oh, sure!” Louis sets down his sandwich on its Ziploc and wipes his fingers on his jeans. He angles the laptop a bit more towards Harry, turning up the brightness and scrolling back to the beginning. “These are from the first day, with Bebe – well, second day, technically.”

“And Pogo,” Harry says, nodding. “They look amazing.”

“They did most of the hard work,” Louis says, laughing. “Watching them jumping together – it was incredible. I wish I could do that, but I’d probably break my neck.”

“I could give you a few lessons,” Harry says, leaning over to click to the next picture. “Not jumping, obviously, but riding’s really pretty simple.”

Louis glances up at him in surprise, trying to judge the seriousness of the offer. “You would?”  he asks.

“Hmm?” Harry looks up. “Oh, yeah, sure. Wow, these are incredible, Louis.”

“But I – I mean, thank you, but – what?”

“Just because I’m a veterinary student doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate art,” Harry says with a crooked smile. “You clearly have real talent.”

“But – thanks, but – I meant the other thing.”

“The – oh, the lessons?” Harry shrugs. “I dunno, I’m happy to teach you.”

“But-” Louis is dumbstruck. “I mean, I don’t want to take up too much of your time-” he wants to take up all of his time but also he doesn’t want to inconvenience him “-and I’m sure you must be busy-”

“Louis.” Harry is laughing. “I don’t mind. I really don’t. I wouldn’t have offered if it would be a problem.”

“But-”

“Just say yes,” Harry says. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Louis doesn’t have the willpower to resist him, not when he’s smiling with those brilliant green eyes, his voice light and cheerful. Louis wants to make him smile like that forever.

“All right,” he says. “Thank you.”

Harry claps – yes, actually claps his hands together. “When would be a good time for you?” he asks. “I don’t know if you want to spend more time at the stables – though, on the other hand, I always seem to – but if you don’t want to take time away from your photography project-”

Louis nods. “I don’t know how much extra time I can squeeze out of my schedule,” he says. “I’d have to look – but for now, maybe start with the time I’d be there anyway? I’ve got a lot of photos that I’m quite pleased with, though I’ll probably want a few more.”

“Sounds good,” Harry says with a nod. “Friday?”

Louis is startled. “That’s quick.”

Harry laughs again. “I work fast,” he says.

His gaze locks with Louis’ holding him fast. Louis feels the breath catch in his chest, his heart rate rising, and he’s trapped in those beautiful eyes.

He breaks the staring contest first, looking down at the ground with a cough. His half-eaten sandwich is still there, forgotten, and he picks it up and takes a bite.

“Well,” Harry says, his voice whisper-soft. “Sometimes, anyway.”

Louis has no idea what that means.

“So tell me more about these pictures,” Harry says at last. “I love the lighting on this one, and the sense of motion – and the framing on this one is amazing.”

Louis perks up, a smile already forming on his lips. He’s only too happy to comply.

~*~

Harry is an excellent listener. And Louis is terrible at knowing when to stop talking. Which he blames on Harry. When Louis starts rambling about shutter speed and exposure and file types, Harry looks interested, and asks questions.

“How do you know so much about photography if you’re a veterinary student?” Louis asks, after a particularly knowledgeable question.

Harry laughs. “I used to do photography as a hobby,” he says. “I was even in a club back in school. Been a while, though. It’s kind of… nostalgic.”

Louis shakes his head. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Plenty,” Harry says, laughing again. “I can’t parallel park, for one. And I’m an absolute menace when I try to dance. Gave my best friend a bloody nose, once.”

Now it’s Louis’ turn to laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little.” Harry’s smile says he’s not offended at Louis’ mirth. “Sprained my ankle another time, badly enough that I was on crutches for two weeks.”

Louis clutches at his stomach as he laughs. “Guess I can’t take you clubbing, then,” he says between gasps.

It takes him a moment to realize that Harry is giving him an odd look. “What?”

Louis stops laughing. “I mean – like, if we ever hang out outside the stable. We’re friends, right?”

“Right,” Harry says. “Friends. And we’re not at the stables now.”

“Exactly,” Louis says, a false cheer ringing through his voice. “You’re fun to hang out with, Harry Styles. Is that a surprise?”

“Well, I – no, I guess not.”

Louis feels his phone buzz in his pocket, and pulls it out. It’s a text from Zayn – _yo are you coming to class_

Shit. Class.

He seriously considers ditching – he’d rather stay here and talk with Harry, but the prof takes attendance and will definitely notice Louis’ absence.

“But as fun as you are,” he says instead, typing back a quick _running late be there soon_ , “I should really get to class.”

“Oh!” Harry says. “Of course. Did I make you late?”

“ _I_ made me late,” Louis says, chuckling as he slips his laptop into his bag. “Don’t blame yourself; I’m just terrible at keeping track of time.”

“Oh,” Harry says again. Louis gets to his feet, and Harry does likewise. “Should I send you a reminder text about our lesson Friday, then?”

His smile is teasing, and Louis laughs. “I couldn’t possibly forget that,” he says.

Which sounds a little too intense, now that he thinks about it. But he really doesn’t have time to worry; his class is at least a five-minute walk away and he’s already late.

So instead he hoists his bag onto his shoulder and starts jogging. “See you Friday!” he calls.

~*~

Louis is sprawled on the sofa in their tiny apartment, his feet propped up on the arm and his head dangling off the side, as he tells Zayn about his talk with Harry and Harry’s offer for the fourth time.

“And he just offered,” Louis says, gesturing dramatically with one arm. “Like it was no big deal.”

“Hmm,” is all Zayn says. He sits across the room from Louis, a canvas positioned on an easel before him and a paintbrush in his hand.

“Of course, I’ll probably make a fool of myself and fall off the horse or something,” Louis continues, sighing. “That would be just my luck.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Why is it that he’s good at everything?” Louis asks, the question only mostly rhetorical. “He’s a veterinary student, and he has a good job, and he bicycles, and he knows photography, and he’s hot, and he rides, and he’s probably a great teacher too. Why do some people have all the luck?”

“Hmm.”

Louis lifts his head, glaring at Zayn. He’s been giving distracted, disinterested answers for the past forty minutes. “He’s probably good at blood sacrifices and devil worship, too,” he says.

Zayn just nods. “Probably.”

Louis twists into a sitting position, nearly falling off the sofa and only catching himself at the last second. “You’re not even listening to me!”

Zayn glances up from his painting for a moment, a crooked smile flashing across his face before he returns his attention to his work. “Guilty,” he says. “Though it’s not like you were saying anything new.”

“How would you know?” Louis says grumpily. “You weren’t listening.”

Zayn says nothing, and Louis finds curiosity pushing him to his feet.

“What are you doing, anyway?” he asks, wandering across the room. He squeezes behind Zayn, peering over his shoulder at the canvas. Zayn sighs, letting his brush fall onto the paint palette on the table beside him.

Louis’ jaw drops as he takes in the picture – a face, composed all in shades of red, and unmistakably familiar.

“Is that – Liam?” His voice is incredulous, but the more he thinks about it the more it makes sense – he’d just been too busy thinking about Harry to notice it.

“It is.”

“You’re painting Liam.”

“I am.”

“Oh my God.” Louis shakes his head, a slightly hysterical laugh burbling up from his throat. “And you have the nerve to tell me I’m being stupid about Harry.”

“You are.” Zayn picks up his brush, adding more contrast to the jut of his brow. “That’s an objective fact.”

“But you-”

“Already have his phone number, so I’ve gotten further in two days than you have in two weeks.”

Louis’ jaw drops again. “What? How?”

“I went through your phone.”

“You – _hey!_ ”

Zayn shrugs. “It’s not like you wouldn’t have given it to me,” he points out. “And it’s not like I don’t know most of the secrets you might not want people to find on there. And the ones I don’t know, I don’t want to know, so I wouldn’t look anyway.”

“Is that so?” It probably is, Louis knows, but he’s still annoyed – it’s the _principle_ of the thing, not to mention that Zayn deprived Louis of an opportunity to tease him mercilessly. The jerk.

“By the end of the week,” Zayn continues, “I’ll have asked him out, and by the end of the month we might be on our third date. Meanwhile, at the rate _you’re_ going, you’ll be lucky to go on a single date before your birthday.”

“Or he might turn you down or dump you,” Louis points out, “while I’ll still be friends with Harry.”

Zayn shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. “But nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Louis sighs, boosting himself onto the table – careful to avoid Zayn’s paints. “I just – I don’t know,” he says, resting his chin on his hands. “I don’t want to mess things up. If he doesn’t want to-”

“He does.”

“But if he _doesn’t_ ,” Louis repeats. “I just – I’d rather have him in my life as a friend than not at all. I don’t want to make things weird.”

Zayn nods slowly. “I get that, I think,” he says. “But Lou – does Harry really seem like the kind of guy who would shut you out just because you had a crush on him that he didn’t return? He seems smarter than that.”

“I guess,” Louis says. “But, like – it would just be awkward.”

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward,” Zayn says with a shrug. “You’ve decided you want him as a friend anyway. Why not take the chance? Worst case scenario nothing changes.”

“ _I_ change,” Louis says, his voice quiet.

Zayn looks at him shrewdly. “Is that what you’re so afraid of?” he asks. “Change? The unfamiliar? Not being in control?”

Louis wants to say he’s not afraid, but it rings false in his chest. “Maybe?” he says at last. “I don’t know.”

Zayn sighs. “Change is inevitable, Lou,” he says. “You can’t control that. You can only control how you respond.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Louis asks. “Because it wasn’t.”

“It was supposed to be true,” Zayn says indifferently. “Comforting or not isn’t my concern.”

“You’re an ass.” There’s no venom in the words, not when they’ve both said them to one another a hundred times before.

“I’m honest,” Zayn replies. “That’s what you like about me. That’s why we get along.”

It’s true, Louis thinks. They’re very alike in that way – brutally honest, even when the truth isn’t kind, or easy. They both believe that the truth is best, even when it hurts.

So why is he so fearful of revealing the truth now? It seems… hypocritical.

“Because it matters,” he mutters to himself. The truth feels like a hand grenade, the pin loose under his fingers, threatening to break free and unleash explosive destruction. It matters so much it hurts.

But – he can’t help thinking – isn’t that all the more reason to be honest? If it matters, if it’s important – that’s the kind of truth that most needs to be told – isn’t it?

He pushes the thought aside. Something to worry about at a later date, he thinks.

~*~

Harry is a very good teacher. Of course he is. He’s patient, and he explains everything thoroughly, but it doesn’t feel condescending at all. When Louis asks questions (ones he’s sure are stupid), Harry happily answers them. Louis can feel his nervousness and uncertainty vanishing under Harry’s tutelage.

Well. Most of it, anyway. He’s still a bit nervous because it’s Harry.

But watching Harry teach – he almost forgets. When he talks about how it feels to canter along a forest path, his eyes light up and his hands trace the shape of the trees and Louis can almost see it, can almost feel the hoofbeats beneath him and the sun and wind on his skin. In his mind’s eye, he looks to his left and sees Harry cantering along beside him. He smiles, urging his horse faster.

They start with horse care. Louis is surprised at first, but Harry insists. “This is a part of riding,” he says. “As much as your posture or your seat. You have to know how to care for your mount.”

Louis isn’t about to argue. He’d walk off a cliff if Harry told him too.

Well. Maybe not actually. But possibly. In any case, he doesn’t argue.

Harry shows him how to groom his mount – the currycomb, the stiff-bristled brush, the softer brush for the head and legs. Then he leads Louis to the tack room, where they walk through row upon row of saddles and blankets, each carefully labelled. Stirrups, bridles, and other things Louis can’t name hang from the walls like Christmas decorations. One side of the room is entirely covered in hard hats hanging from nails. Harry runs his fingers along a few before selecting one and handing it to Louis.

“Domino’s tack is over here,” he says, pointing to a saddle at the end of the row. “Each horse has their own equipment, suited to them. Some horses have softer or harder mouths, for instance, or dislike certain materials in their saddle blankets.” He shows Louis how to pick up the saddle, and Louis tries not to grimace at the feeling of dirt and dried sweat against his skin.

Next, they tack up. It’s easier than Louis expects, though he gets the straps of the bridle hopelessly tangled on his first try. Domino stands calmly through Louis’ fumblings, patient and unperturbed. The saddle just slides into place, and Harry shows him how to check the tightness of the girth and adjust the stirrups.

Okay,” Harry says at last. “Ready to mount up?”

He’s really not – the horse looks taller than ever as Louis stands beside him, and the idea of climbing atop its swaying back is… not appealing. He’s not even five foot nine, for pity’s sake – he’s not used to heights. But he swallows hard, trying to push down his nerves. “What do I have to do?” he asks.

They lead Domino out to the ring, and Harry walks him through it – approaching from the left side, left foot in the stirrup, pushing up with the right foot from the ground rather than resting weight on the stirrup. Louis’ brain feels stretched like a balloon, trying to take everything in at once and hold it all in his mind simultaneously.

But he tries. It takes him three tries to get onto Domino’s back, and even then he can tell he’s putting more weight on the stirrup than he’s supposed to, but Harry smiles like a proud parent, and tells him he knew he could do it.

Louis doesn’t have Harry’s confidence in himself, still isn’t completely convinced that he’ll actually be able to do this, but somehow, with Harry’s voice and his smile and his eyes telling him he can, he starts to believe it.

~*~

The rest of the lesson goes well – to Louis’ surprise – and Harry asks him twice if this is really the first time he’s been on a horse.

“I guess watching riders like Bebe so closely gave me a sense of it,” is all Louis can offer in explanation. “Or maybe you’re just a really good teacher.”

Harry laughs, his eyes shining. “Maybe,” he says.

Louis turns to lead Domino back to the stables to untack, when he feels a soft touch on his shoulder. He turns back, Harry’s hand sliding down his arm and gripping his hand.

Louis’ heart skips a beat. Harry is holding his hand, his hand, he’s holding, holy crap.

He bites his tongue hard, forcing himself to look up at Harry and listen.

“-for letting me do this,” he’s saying, his eyes warm and sincere. “It means a lot to me to get to share this with you. So… thanks.”

“No problem,” Louis says breathlessly. He shakes his head. “I mean – thank _you_. You didn’t have to take the time out of your life-”

“I’m more than happy to,” Harry says. “ _You’re_ the one who took time out of his life.”

Louis laughs. “Let’s just call it even, shall we?” he offers.

“Deal.”

Harry lets go of Louis’ hand, holding it out for a handshake, and Louis obliges before he realizes how odd the whole thing is and cracks up. “Only you,” he says between chortles.

Harry shrugs, unabashed. “It’s one of my best qualities,” he says.

“One of many,” Louis says. As soon as he says it, he wonders if it’s too much, but Harry just smiles.

They’re hanging up Domino’s tack when Harry snaps his fingers. “I almost forgot,” he says. “The assignment ends next week, right?”

Ice crystalizes in Louis’ stomach. He hadn’t realized, but Harry’s right. He doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to no longer have an excuse to see Harry. “I guess so,” he manages. “Wow, time really flies.”

“Doesn’t it?” Harry says. “It feels like you just arrived a few days ago.” He smiles, and Louis tries to smile back, but it feels strained. “Anyway,” Harry continues. “For the last week we usually give you a little more control.”

Louis frowns. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“So far, we’ve for the most part been telling you what you’re taking pictures of,” Harry explains. “And I know you’ve got some amazing shots – I’ve seen them – but this last week is your chance to get anything you’ve been missing. Or if a shot didn’t turn out quite right, to try it again. You get a person and a horse, and you can tell them what you want them to do.”

“Wow,” Louis says, his mind reeling. “Um, wow. Okay. But what if I don’t have any ideas?”

“That’s why I wanted to mention it now,” Harry says. “That way you can think about it over the weekend. And I’m sure we’ll have some ideas for you – or Niall will, anyway.”

“Niall – we – what?” Louis shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m just… still catching up.”

Harry chuckles. “That’s fine,” he says. “I’ll be your rider on Monday, Niall on Wednesday, and Liam on Friday. Gives you a little more variety of styles and skills.”

“What if I ask you to do something you can’t do?” Louis wants to know.

Harry shrugs. “We won’t,” he says. “We know our limits and those of the horses. It’s not a big deal, Louis, I promise. I just wanted to give you a heads up so you could start thinking about it, and come up with some things you want me to do.”

Oh, Louis has a long list of things he wants Harry to do.

Which is not what Harry meant, obviously, and Louis wonders if he could trade in his brain for another, less _stupid_ model.

It doesn’t seem likely.

~*~

Louis manages to get through Monday without saying something grossly inappropriate, which he counts as a win. With Niall, he says all kind of inappropriate things, but Niall started it so it’s fine. Also he doesn’t have a mad crush on Niall, so. There’s that.

Louis is almost dreading Friday. Harry promised to be there (“I wouldn’t miss your last visit!”), and it feels like some kind of dramatic goodbye. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. Oh, they’ll presumably still see each other around campus, and Liam has said he’s welcome back any time, but it will still be different. He just isn’t sure how.

Regardless of his personal feelings on the matter, he has a project to finish. So Wednesday after class, he heads to the library. He’s gone through the images a few times, picking out the best ones and making some preliminary edits, but now he has to select the final portfolio and arrange it.

This part Louis has always found works better with physical images – something about being able to pick things up and move them around by hand is so different from doing the same thing on his computer. He prints out all the images in the subfolder, four to a page, and finds a clear table to work at.

He’s barely sat down when he groans. This isn’t the subfolder of portfolio contenders. This is the subfolder of pictures of _Harry_ , at ten cents a page.

Oh well, he supposes it’ll make for a relaxing break later, once he’s gotten enough work done.

He prints off the correct folder and gets to work, sorting through the pictures to make sure he has a variety of images in the final collection. Then he starts arranging, looking for a balance of color and light, motion and stillness, close and wide shots. Some of his favorite images he has to cut, simply because he has too many similar ones, or they just don’t fit into the pattern. It stings, but he’s done it often enough that he doesn’t feel too bad about it anymore.

After a little over an hour, his brain is getting fuzzy, and he flops down in a chair. He puts his feet up on a clear spot on the table, careful to avoid the pictures, and picks up the first pile of photos. His heart is pounding slightly as he starts flipping through, feeling as though he’s doing something naughty, but as his eyes brush over picture after picture of Harry – smiling, always smiling – he feels himself start to relax.

“Hey, Louis!”

Louis jumps, photos slipping from his hands and fluttering to the floor as he nearly tumbles from the chair. “Shit,” he says, scrambling to pick them up. “I mean – sorry, I mean, hi!”

“Do you need-”

“I’m fine!” Louis says quickly, his voice slightly shrill. “I’ve got it all under control.”

“Are these some more of the photos you’ve been taking?” Harry asks, leaning over the table.

Louis’ heart skips a beat. “No,” he tries to say, “those aren’t – don’t-”

It’s too late. Louis sees Harry’s face freeze as he takes in the images – shot after shot of Harry’s hands, his face, his eyes, his smile. Louis looks away, his heart sinking into his stomach. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he didn’t want this, he’s so stupid, damn it!

“I can explain,” he starts to say, but Harry speaks first.

“Louis.” His voice is soft, and he sounds – surprised, obviously, but not – he sounds almost… awed. “Is this – are you-”

Louis looks up. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help it. And Harry looks… Louis can’t read him. Nervous? Happy? Uncomfortable? Happy? Concerned? He can’t tell, and it’s driving him bananas.

“Weren’t you supposed to be photographing the horses?” Harry says at last. He chuckles. “I don’t think this qualifies as Animal Photography.”

Louis’ stomach does a somersault at the possible meanings of that sentence. He can’t speak; he doesn’t know what to say, how to explain. “They’re, um, Zayn’s,” he chokes out. “I’m just-”

“Zayn?” Harry asks, and there’s definitely amusement in his voice. “This is the Zayn whose preferred medium is painting, yes? And also who Liam tells me he’s going out to dinner with tomorrow? That Zayn?”

Louis has no answer.

“I suppose I’m lucky,” Harry says after a moment. “You can make anyone look beautiful.”

Louis laughs breathlessly. “It’s not like you need much help,” he says, without thinking.

Harry’s brows knit. “What?”

This is why he’s not supposed to speak without thinking. It always has disastrous results. But he swallows hard and presses on, trying to keep his voice light.

“You are beautiful,” he says. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. Even Zayn thought so, and someone who looks like he does isn’t inclined to say that lightly.”

Harry’s mouth opens and closes. He looks down at the pictures again, his gaze brushing over the ones Louis had completely forgotten he was holding, before he looks back up at Louis. “Okay,” he says. “Maybe so, but-”

The sound of an electronic ringtone cuts through the air, uncomfortably loud. Several people around them give them dirty looks, which Louis returns. Harry digs frantically through his bag to pull out the offending cell phone. “Sorry,” he says as he digs. “Sorry, I – oh shit, I have to take this.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “Okay, yeah, that’s fine.” He feels – off-kilter, somehow, as Harry answers his phone, his conversation hushed and urgent. Everything feels fuzzy around the edges, and yet somehow sharper than ever. Time seems suspended – like the moment on a roller coaster right before you fall, when you can feel the point of no return slipping away behind you. There’s no stopping it; there’s only freefall.

But now, everything is stopped, paused in place when it shouldn’t be possible, and Louis can’t help worrying that when it continues, gravity will hit twice as hard, as if to make up for lost time.

“You’re sure?” Harry is saying into the phone. “Right now?” A frown creases his forehead, and Louis doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it’s hardly eavesdropping when he’s standing right there, is it? “Okay,” he continues. “Right, I understand. Okay. I will.”

He hangs up slowly, his expression conflicted.

“I’m really sorry,” Harry says. “I have to go. Cleo’s having her foal. I know this is terrible timing, but-”

Louis shakes his head. “Go,” he says, though the thought of leaving things in this suspended state makes him feel like his head is going to explode. But he knows he has to. “This is important to you; I get that. Of course you have to go.”

Harry looks like he’s trying to find a reason not to. Louis gives him a gentle push, trying not to overthink the momentary contact. “Go,” he says again. “You can tell me all about it later.”

Harry’s smile is blinding. “I will,” he promises. “And I’ll text you, I promise.”

Louis opens his mouth to say that he doesn’t even have his number, but Harry is already gone.

~*~

_Hey it’s Harry_

Louis sits straight up in bed. He was working on a research assignment – or he was supposed to be; in actuality he was about six pages into a Wikipedia rabbit hole that had nothing to do with the topic of his project – but at the sight of the message even that small pretense of work goes out the window.

_Hey,_ he sends back. _How’s the baby?_

_Perfect,_ says the reply. _He’s nursing well, and Cleo is over the moon._

_I thought that was a cow, not a horse_

_Dork_

_You know it_

_I do_

If Louis is grinning like a loon at his phone, well, there are no witnesses to testify to it.

_I have some bad news though,_ says Harry’s next message, and suddenly the bottom drops out from Louis’ stomach. Their interrupted conversation has been playing on repeat in his head since the day before, a broken record that keeps playing over and over, and this feels like the moment when the record finally snaps clean through.

The typing bubble pops up again, and Louis locks his phone and drops it on the bed beside him. He doesn’t want to know.

When it buzzes, he ignores it. If he pretends it’s not real, it won’t be, at least for a few seconds. He’s not going to look. He’s not.

He does.

His curiosity is stronger than his self-preservation, and he picks up the phone.

_Unfortunately I won’t be at Greenfield on Friday,_ says the message.

Louis feels sick. He must have made Harry so uncomfortable he doesn’t even want to face Louis – not that he can blame him; how creepy must those photographs look? And now he’s skipping out on Louis’ last visit so he never has to see him again, and -

His phone buzzes.

_I have an assignment due, and I was planning to work on it yesterday but the baby kind of took up that time._

Oh. That… makes sense. A lot of sense, really. There’s a part of Louis that doesn’t quite believe it, but he tries to stamp it down.

_Would you be able to come by on Saturday?_ says Harry’s next message. _Get one more riding session in, maybe._

Louis doesn’t even have to think about his answer. _Absolutely,_ he types. _What time?_

~*~

Harry is waiting in the parking lot when Louis pulls up. He’s leaning against a tree, his posture languid and relaxed, but he straightens up immediately when he sees Louis, a wide smile making Louis’ heart throb.

“Hey,” he says as Louis climbs out of the car.

Louis swallows hard. “Hey,” he says.

He isn’t sure how to play this. It’s the first time he’s seen Harry since the disaster that was Wednesday, and with all that’s happened since he doesn’t know where he stands.

“Have you seen the colt yet?”

Louis smiles. Of course the first thing Harry would want to talk about would be the horses. “I have,” he says. “He’s beautiful.”

“His mama is so proud,” Harry says, his smile lighting up his face. “As well she should be.”

“You should be proud too,” Louis says. “You helped bring the little guy into the world.”

Harry ducks his head shyly. “I didn’t do that much,” he said. “Dr. Corden would have been fine without me. I’m just grateful to have had the opportunity.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, kitten,” Louis says. “This is just the start; you might have been an assistant this time, but next time you might be doing it by yourself.”

Harry laughs. “Hopefully not quite so quickly,” he says. “But I think I could if I had to, if there wasn’t a proper vet around.”

“I’m sure you could.”

Harry shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. “Anyway, wanna see him before we get started?”

He does. They head into the stables to the double stall where Cleo and her baby are housed. The little colt is nursing, and looks up as they approach. The abrupt motion is enough to set him off balance, and he sprawls in the soft straw, long legs all akimbo.

Harry chuckles. “Oopsy daisy,” he croons.

Louis is in love with an idiot. An idiot who says “oopsy daisy.” To a horse.

He has no regrets.

“The owners are still trying to decide what to name him,” Harry says as they watch the colt clamber back to his feet and resume his meal. “Any suggestions?”

Louis bites his tongue. Long legs; awkward, clumsy gait; soft brown coat – he knows exactly who the colt reminds him of. “Not sure,” he says instead. “Maybe Antony?”

Harry nods thoughtfully. “I can see that,” he says. “It suits him, I think.”

Louis smiles, pride flashing warm in his chest. “So what do you have planned for me today, effendi?” he asks.

Harry bites his lip. “Well,” he says slowly. “I was thinking of trying something a bit different.”

Louis frowns. “Different how?”

Harry’s sheepish smile does not inspire confidence. “Don’t freak out or anything.”

“Okay,” Louis says, “except that is the one phrase guaranteed to make people freak out. Well, that and ‘There’s a bee on you.’”

Louis really needs to stop using humor to cover when he gets nervous. Harry’s chuckle has to be out of pity, because that wasn’t even funny.

“I was thinking,” Harry says. “I mean – you’ve picked it up so quickly – so I was thinking… we could go for a trail ride together.”

Louis blinks, opens and closes his mouth. “Now?” he says. “But – I mean, I’ve barely ridden, and-”

“You’re a natural,” Harry says. “You have great posture, you give clear signals. It’s just a trail ride, nothing fancy. People who have never been on a horse before manage it just fine. You will too, I promise.”

Louis can’t bring himself to say no. “All right,” he says. “I trust your judgement.”

Harry’s smile makes it all worth it. Even if he falls off and winds up with a concussion. Which is not going to happen, he reminds himself, because Harry wouldn’t let it.

He hopes.

~*~

The forest is beautiful. Louis keeps finding himself lost in it, and he’s glad that Domino seems perfectly content to keep pace with Harry’s mount (Cowboy, which made Louis laugh aloud) regardless of the quality (or lack thereof) Louis’ directions (or lack thereof). The light filters softly through the leaves, and squirrels scamper through the brush and branches.

“It looks different from up here, doesn’t it?” Harry’s voice is soft, but Louis still starts.

“It does,” he says. “It’s beautiful.” He smiles at Harry, who returns it. “I don’t get out in nature like this all that often,” he adds after a moment. “I always mean to, but, well. Life gets in the way, I guess.”

Harry nods. “I never realize how much I miss it until I come back,” he muses. “And then it’s like – like a weight I didn’t know I was carrying has been lifted off me.”

Louis feels it too. As he breathes in the forest air, scented richly with leaves and moss and damp earth, he feels as though something inside him is waking up from a long sleep. A bird perches on a tree branch, singing a cheery tune, and Louis whistles it back.

Harry laughs. “You’ll confuse the poor cardinal,” he teases. “He’s looking for a mate.”

Louis laughs too. “I’m probably not quite what he’s looking for,” he says.

Harry stares out into the forest, watching as the bird flies off. “I don’t know,” he says. “You seem like a pretty good catch.”

A beat. Louis is struck once again by that suspended sensation, the world waiting to see what happens next. He forgets to breathe, trying not to ask the question that trembles on his tongue, desperate to know – and yet afraid of what he might learn.

After what seems like an eternity, but can only have been a few seconds, Harry turns back to Louis with a grin. “For a cardinal, at least,” he says, and the moment breaks. Louis shoves him gently, muttering, “goof” under his breath. Harry doesn’t deny it.

Louis feels like he’s yoyoing between certainty and doubt, hope and despair. One minute, he thinks that maybe, just maybe – and then there’s a joke or a laugh, and he’s no longer certain how much of it is real and how much of it he just wants to be real.

“Listen,” Harry says suddenly, pulling Louis out of his thoughts. He listens. There are lots of sounds in a forest, he’s realizing – squirrels chattering, twigs snapping, birds singing, leaves blowing in the wind – but he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be listening for.

The rustling of the leaves grows louder as he listens, and he frowns – the trees don’t seem to be blowing that hard, and he barely even feels the wind. It’s odd – unless –

“A waterfall,” he breathes, turning to Harry for confirmation. He receives a smile and a nod, and a moment later they round a bend in the path and it’s in front of them – a small stream running over the edge of a rocky promontory, falling into a crystalline pool before flowing away.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers, unable to tear his eyes away.

“It is,” Harry agrees.

“I never realized – I mean, we’re not even that far from the city.” Louis shakes his head. “I’ve lived here for years, but had no idea it was here.”

Harry dismounts from his horse, leading him to the water’s edge to drink. “It’s one of my favorite spots,” he says. “I like to come here to think, or just to relax. I always feel better leaving.”

“I can imagine,” Louis says, though right now all he’s feeling is nervousness about his own dismount. What if he messes up, or falls, or gets stuck, or the horse spooks, or – he forces himself to take a deep breath, pushing the worries to one side, and with a mental count of three, swings his leg over the side of the horse.

It’s a bit clumsy, and he stumbles on the landing, but all things considered it’s a good dismount. Harry gives him a pleased nod, and Louis feels a flash of pride. He leads Domino over to the pool and they stand for a moment in silence, the slurp of the horses’ drinking joining the quiet forest chorus.

When Harry moves away, Louis follows before he has time to think about whether he should. Harry smiles at him, though, and it makes Louis’ breath catch in his throat and once again he finds himself thinking that maybe, just maybe-

The sight of a large wicker basket tucked under a tree completely derails his train of thought. A red and white checked cloth pokes out of the flap at the top.

“Is that what I think it is?” Louis asks.

“Depends what you think it is,” Harry replies. He bends over, flipping open the basket, and Louis glimpses fruit and sandwiches inside.

“But,” Louis starts, then shakes his head. “I just – how?”

“I got Niall to set it up for us,” Harry said with a grin.

“Wow,” Louis says. “I – how?”

Harry shrugs. “If I offer to buy a few rounds of drinks, he’s game for practically anything,” he says.

“Wow,” Louis says again. “This is – wow. But – why?”

Harry doesn’t answer right away, and Louis begins to wonder if he heard the question – or if he should have asked at all. He opens his mouth to say something else – to ask what they’re eating, or to offer to unload the basket – but then Harry speaks. His voice is soft, and Louis has to strain to hear him.

“Because,” he says slowly, “I thought it was worth the risk.”

Louis’ heart is pounding in his chest. Maybe, it seems to say with each beat. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

“Let’s eat,” Harry says after another moment, and Louis can’t bring himself to disagree.

The food is delicious – simple, but Louis enjoys every bite. And as they eat, they talk. Almost all of their previous conversations have been about horses – or photography – but now Harry asks about his family, his hobbies, his friends. At first, Louis is nervous, feeling like every answer is being graded, but as Harry laughs at his jokes or tells his own embarrassing anecdotes (of which he appears to have many), Louis begins to relax, until he’s completely forgotten his nerves.

Louis barely notices when they finish the food, happy to just sit and talk and laugh. But Harry has other ideas.

“Want to go wading?” he asks. “The water’s beautiful.”

Louis would normally say no. Louis normally does not go wading.

“That sounds great,” he says. And it does, because Harry is saying it. He copies Harry as they strip off their shoes and socks, and follows him into the water, step by tentative step.

“It’s freezing!” Louis says as the water passes over their ankles.

Harry laughs. “Wakes you up, doesn’t it?”

Louis has never felt more awake.

They make their way over to the waterfall, and Louis can feel the spray on his skin, making goosebumps pop up on his arms. Harry reaches out a hand to touch the water, watching it split around his fingers and drip down his wrist. He cups his hands together, letting the water pool, then lifts it to his mouth and sips. Louis can’t tear his eyes away from the shape of his lips, the bob of his throat as he swallows.

When Harry looks up, Louis wants to look away. But then Harry fixes him with that smile, and he can’t. He feels his cheeks turn red, but his lips curve up into an answering smile.

“Try some,” Harry says, and again, Louis would normally say no, but when it comes to Harry – the word no longer exists. He starts to cup his hands, but then Harry holds out his own, water carefully trapped between his callused palms.

Louis looks up at Harry, uncertain, but Harry’s smile is still warm and encouraging. Louis ducks his head, feeling the brush of Harry’s fingers on his cheek as he sips. The water is cool and slightly sweet, some of the best he’s tasted, and he licks his lips as he straightens.

It takes him a moment to realize that Harry’s gaze is fixed on his lips, eyes following the quick flick of his tongue. Harry’s hand rises, and Louis freezes as the pad of Harry’s thumb brushes across Louis’ chin, gathering the drops of water that collected there.

There’s an uncertainty in Harry’s eyes, and Louis takes an involuntary step forward. “Harry,” he says, his voice breathless and barely audible. He feels Harry’s fingers brush over his hip, and he shivers.

“On Wednesday,” Harry says. The uncertainty in his eyes is fading, being replaced by a light that makes Louis’ knees go weak. “We didn’t get to finish that conversation.”

“No,” Louis says faintly. “We didn’t.”

“But I think,” Harry continues, “that I might know what you didn’t say.”

Louis giggles. He actually giggles. He has no excuse, except that being this close to Harry makes him lightheaded and stupid. But Harry doesn’t seem to mind, judging by the smile that spreads across his face. He leans in, and Louis closes his eyes, waiting.

The very first brush of Harry’s lips takes Louis’ breath away. It’s soft and gentle, a tentative, savoring exploration, and it’s perfection – except that Louis has waited for this for what feels like forever, and now that he has it, he wants it all, everything Harry will give him.

He steps closer, pressing into Harry’s space as he wraps an arm around his back. The other hand slides up Harry’s cheek as he kisses hungrily, every movement feeling like a breath of pure oxygen. He feels Harry’s tongue slide into his mouth and moans softly, his knees going weak as he holds onto Harry with everything he has. He’s already panting desperately, unable to catch his breath, but he doesn’t want to, breathing hardly matters when he could be kissing Harry instead.

He shifts his footing, trying to somehow squeeze even closer, but his foot slips on an algae-covered rock and he falls hard on his butt, pulling Harry with him. He starts to apologize, but Harry just laughs and kisses him again, and Louis is only too happy to oblige. The water is shallow, and the chill that seeps into his clothes means that every brush of Harry’s fingers over his back is fire, both literal and figurative. He’s never felt so alive, and he never wants it to stop.

At last, Louis begins to shiver, and Harry pulls back. “Much as I hate to stop now,” he says, “you should probably dry off a little. Before you die of pneumonia or something.”

Louis starts to protest, but thinks better of it. He can keep kissing Harry somewhere warmer, he reasons, accepting Harry’s hand to pull himself to his feet. Harry doesn’t let go once they’re standing, and Louis finds he doesn’t mind that in the least.

They wade to shore to assess the damage to their clothes. Harry’s shirt is still mostly dry, but Louis is soaked to mid-stomach.

“Not to move too quickly,” Louis says after a moment, “but I think I’m going to have to take my pants off.”

Harry cackles at that. “What a shame,” he says, a wicked gleam in his eyes that makes Louis’ cheeks flush and his breath catch in his throat.

He can feel Harry’s gaze on him as he strips off the sodden jeans, and his cheeks turn even redder. It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it, of course; he has – a lot – but now it just feels… strange. Still, when Harry pulls off his own jeans, he can’t keep himself from staring either, his eyes tracing the curve of Harry’s bum and wondering what it would be like to touch it, to press his fingers into the soft, milky skin, to watch Harry squirm under his attentions, helpless, beautiful nonsense spilling from his perfect mouth.

Louis swallows hard, trying to force the thoughts from his mind. Wet boxers do very little to conceal a boner.

Instead, he wanders over to the horses, rubbing their noses softly. Harry joins him a minute later.

“We put on quite a show for them, didn’t we?” Harry asks, a laugh coloring his words.

Louis laughs too. “I guess so,” he says. “Think they enjoyed it?”

“I know I did,” Harry says. He presses his lips to Louis’ shoulder, the gesture sweet and simple and somehow making Louis’ heart ache with happiness in a way that the earlier kisses hadn’t. “You know,” Harry adds, a moment later, “I always wanted to do this.”

“Do what?” Louis asks. “Make out with someone in a waterfall?”

Harry laughs. “Something like that,” he says. “Just – I love this place. I’ve loved it since the first time I saw it. And I always thought it would be nice to share it with someone. But I didn’t have someone to share it with.”

Louis blinks, confused. “It’s a public trail, isn’t it?” he says. “It’s not like it’s your personal waterfall.”

“Technically,” Harry says, still smiling. “But – I don’t know, doesn’t it feel special? Doesn’t it feel personal, like it’s somehow ours? Not legally or whatever, but this place, and this moment – it’s ours.”

Ours. Louis likes the sound of that.

And he’s right, really – Louis knows that he’ll never look at waterfalls the same way again. He knows he’ll never be able to look at this waterfall without seeing Harry, knows that in this moment, it feels like they’ve somehow stepped out of the city – out of time – and into their own, private world; just them, the horses, and the water.

He squeezes Harry’s hand gently, hoping it can somehow convey what he feels. When Harry squeezes back, he knows that it can. He clears his throat.

“So,” he says. “My experience with jeans is that they take a while to dry, even in the sun. And they’re just plain uncomfortable to wear wet.”

Harry grins, catching on quickly. “How unfortunate,” he says. “I suppose we’ll just have to find a way to occupy ourselves for the next little while as they dry.”

The forest around them echoes with their laughter, blending its way into the song of the woods.

~*~

A month later, Harry is pressed tight to Louis’ side as they walk into the exhibition hall. Louis is sure his palm is sweaty but Harry’s grip doesn’t falter, keeping Louis grounded and he has never been more grateful.

When Professor Winston said he was recommending Louis’ project for the year-end exhibition of exemplary works from visual arts courses, Louis had practically fallen out of his chair. It had been all he could do to stammer out a “Thank you, sir!”

And as soon as he’d left the meeting, he’d called Harry.

“This never would have happened if it wasn’t for you,” he said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You probably could have,” Harry said. “I’ve seen your work. But I’m glad you didn’t.”

Louis had smiled, warmth pooling in his stomach. “Me too,” he’d whispered.

And now here they are, standing in front of his photos spread over a gallery wall. It doesn’t seem real – it’s everything Louis has ever dreamed of, and Louis is half afraid he’s going to wake up any second to realize that it’s all been a dream.

“Pinch me,” he whispers to Harry.

Harry laughs. “It’s real,” he says. “You did it, Lou. This is all you. And this is just the beginning.”

For a moment, Louis is no longer standing in the student exhibition hall. He’s in a bigger room, somewhere spacious and fancy, with wood paneling on the walls. His photographs cover every wall, photographs of all sorts, and men and women in suits and dresses are sipping champagne as they examine them. He turns, smiling at Harry beside him – older, but still so beautiful, so perfect. A little boy runs up to them, a toy car in each hand as he hugs Harry’s leg, and Harry ruffles his hair gently.

And then he’s back in the gallery. Harry is still beside him, his smile bright and his hand soft and warm in Louis'.

Louis wants that future, wants it so badly it takes his breath away. And with Harry standing at his side, he feels like it just might be possible.

“There you are, Louis!” Louis turns, smiling as Professor Winston approaches. “And – oh, I recognize you, you’re the one in Louis’ photo!”

Louis’ cheeks flush slightly – that photo had been a last-minute switch, a shot of Harry kissing Ladybug on the nose replacing a photo of Cumulus staring moodily at the clouds. It was a silly photo, and an impulsive decision to send it in, but Professor Winston had loved it.

“It really captures the relationship between horses and humans,” he’d said, and Louis wasn’t about to tell him that it was mostly capturing the relationship between himself and Harry.

“I am,” Harry says, shaking Professor Winston’s hand firmly. “Harry Styles. I’m a veterinary student, working part time at Greenfield.”

“Harry was very helpful throughout the assignment,” Louis says, smiling. He almost always smiles when he thinks of Harry. Which is a lot. “I don’t know what I’d have done without him.”

“Oh, you’d have muddled along just fine,” Professor Winston says, laughing. “You’re very talented, Louis; I think you have a real future in photography. And Liam is very knowledgeable as well.”

“He is,” Louis agrees, remembering how Zayn had told him at lunch the previous day that horses had the largest eyes of any land mammal. (Louis had laughed, commenting that Liam was rubbing off on him. “That’s the plan for tonight,” Zayn had deadpanned. Louis had stopped laughing and covered his ears.) “Steve is very lucky to have him.”

“He is indeed,” Professor Winston agrees. “I should keep making the rounds, but it was lovely to see you, Louis – and to meet your friend, here.”

“Do you think he realizes?” Harry muses as they watch him walk away. “That we’re not exactly ‘friends,’ I mean.”

Louis turns to Harry, feigning a shocked expression. “You’re not my friend?” he says, his voice dripping with simulated sorrow.

Harry cracks up, shoving Louis gently. “Shut up,” he says. “You know what I mean. Idiot.”

“That I am,” Louis says. “And I don’t know. He’s a professor. They can be pretty oblivious.” He glances at Harry. “Do you care?”

“Do you?” Harry asks. “I’d be perfectly happy to kiss you right here and now, if you asked me to.”

Louis shivers, though he feels warm all over. “Maybe later,” he says. “If we start, we might have to-”

“Finish?” Harry says helpfully, a wicked glint in his eye.

Now it’s Louis’ turn to shove him. “I was going to say leave early,” he corrects. “And I want to see more of the exhibitions. I think one of Zayn’s paintings is here, but he was very cagey about it. Which makes me wonder if it was one of the ones of Liam.”

“He paints pictures of Liam?”

“Endlessly,” Louis says, only exaggerating slightly. “It’s a little nauseating. But also hilarious. If you haven’t seen them, you totally should.”

“We can have a viewing next time I come round,” Harry says. “Say, tonight?”

“It’s a plan,” Louis says. “Though I can’t promise it won’t be pushed aside by other much more urgent plans that might arise.”

This last sentence is delivered in a breathless whisper, Louis’ lips brushing along Harry’s neck. Harry swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I thought you wanted to see the other art,” he says, his voice strained.

Louis laughs, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Come on, lover boy,” he says. “Let’s find something to tease our friends about. And then find a nice private place to do something our friends don’t want to know about.”

Harry nods. “Sounds good,” he says, his voice significantly lower than usual.

If he grabs a handful of Louis’ bum as they walk to the next exhibit, only the security cameras have to know.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, kudos and comments mean a lot :) Or feel free to reblog the [fic post](http://loveislarryislove.tumblr.com/post/166622472643/funny-how-the-stars-crossed-right-by)!


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